The Last Howard Girl (Tudor Chronicles Book 3)

by Lesley Jepson

  Lettice looked at Meg evenly. ‘I know it’s not ideal, Aunt, marrying in secret like this. Just with my father here, and you and Uncle Ralph.’ Lettice slid her gaze to Meg and smiled gently, ‘and it won’t be able to be a secret much longer, I feel.’

  Meg gasped softly. ‘A child, sweetheart?’ Lettice nodded happily. ‘Does Lord Robert know? Have you told him?’ Lettice shook her head.

  ‘That is my wedding night surprise for him, Aunt. I will tell him later,’ she blushed, ‘much later.’

  ‘If you hadn’t married, Lettice, what would you have done?’ Meg asked curiously, keeping a watch over at the men who were discussing horses and politics at the other end of the room.

  ‘I would have borne the babe proudly, Aunt. If Robin hadn’t wanted, or been able, to marry me, I would still have been proud to have his child.’ Lettice’s chin came up and her voice took on a firmer note.

  ‘When we returned from Salzburg, Aunt Meg, do you remember my mother taking me to see Uncle Norfolk before he died? When he kept confusing her with my grandmother?’ Meg nodded, and Lettice smiled wryly, ‘He kept telling her to look after the Queen, because he thought she was the last Howard girl.’

  ‘But Aunt,’ Lettice fixed Meg with a look so direct that it made her gasp, ‘I am a Howard girl too, as much as my mother, my grandmother, and the Queen. People may forget, but I am Howard as much as they.’

  ***

  Elizabeth smiled graciously at Michel de Castelnau, the French ambassador, as he took his place at the small dining table. It was an intimate supper so the matters discussed wouldn’t be overheard by the whole court. Elizabeth had required Will Cecil to be present, of course, and she had invited Cat and Francis to lighten the political atmosphere.

  ‘I thought a private supper, Ambassador, so you can be quite open with your master King Charles’ intentions.’

  ‘Thank you, your Majesty,’ he tried to rise to bow properly but realised he was trapped by the table and so made do with a small inclination of his head. ‘It is my pleasure to dine with you tonight.’

  ‘As it is for us, I assure you, Ambassador.’ Elizabeth pushed down her mirth at the pomposity of the tiny Frenchman and raised her goblet to her lips to hide her smile.

  ‘And I am so fortunate, to be invited to dine with the important people of the court, Your Grace. Lord Robert was most gracious last evening when I dined with him.’

  ‘Really, Ambassador? I hadn’t realised you were entertained by Lord Robert last night.’ Elizabeth’s voice remained level but Cat glanced worriedly at her; she alone heard the tightness in Elizabeth’s throat, and the Queen took another sip of wine.

  ‘Oh yes, Your Grace. He keeps a wonderful table, and his Countess is so delightful, witty and beautiful. I thought he might be here tonight, but then of course, realised he wouldn’t be.’

  Elizabeth’s brows rose and Cat saw her carefully replace the goblet on the table so she didn’t betray her feelings with the trembling of her fingers. As Cat watched her carefully, she could see a flush rise from the snowy ruff round her neck, suffusing her cheeks with colour underneath the dusting of powder. Cat was also aware of Francis’ irregular breathing next to her, and she turned to look at her husband in surprise; he was usually the calmest of men.

  ‘Indeed, Ambassador? Why do you think he wouldn’t be?’ Elizabeth’s tone had become flat and hard, and Cat looked at her anxiously.

  ‘He would want to be by his Countess’ side, Your Grace, as she is enceinte? How would you say in English? In a delicate condition?’ The French Ambassador looked across at Francis and Cat and smilingly held his own goblet up in a toast. ‘To your new grandchild, Sir Francis and Lady Knollys. You must be so proud.’

  Cat glanced at Elizabeth and saw all the colour drain from her face, and Cat herself felt her stomach drop, and an enormous tingle across her scalp under her coif. Dimly, as if from a great distance, she heard Francis whisper, ‘Thank you, my Lord.’

  ***

  ‘I wanted to tell you, Cat, but neither Ralph nor Francis would let me,’ Meg looked at her friend sorrowfully, ‘and I am so sorry.’

  Cat nodded sadly. ‘I understand, Meg. Truly I do. Had I known, I wouldn’t have been able to comfort the Princess as I did last night.’

  ‘Was it dreadful, Cat?’

  ‘I can’t tell you how dreadful, Meg. I don’t have the words for that depth of hurt. She didn’t cry, or shout, or throw things. She was silent, but her eyes, Meg, oh, her eyes were so…… anguished!’

  ‘Have you seen Lettice, Cat? Does she know?’

  ‘Well, Francis has gone to see Lord Robert this morning, to summon him to an audience with the Queen after the noon meal. So I imagine they both know, now.’

  ‘And will you go and see her, Cat? She longs to tell you about the babe, and her happiness. It has been a source of sadness to her, that she was made to keep this from you.’

  ‘I shall go straight from here, Meg. Lettice has always been the most open of girls, wearing her heart on her sleeve most of the time. Keeping this to herself must have killed her.’ Cat put her hand over Meg’s, ‘And I am pleased she has had you to confide in, dearest Meg. Always my lovely friend.’ Meg blinked, eyes suddenly full of tears.

  ‘She has been in love with him since before her wedding to Walter, Cat,’ Meg smiled at how Cat’s brows rose in surprise, ‘and now they are wed, her happiness is complete.’

  Cat nodded at her friend, blinking her own tears away.

  ‘But my daughter’s happiness has come at such a price for our Princess, Meg. And that, truly, tears me in two. Because I have loved both my girls, so much.’

  Chapter 53

  lizabeth stood in front of her throne, dressed in an enormous ceremonial gown of peach satin, embroidered with flowers and birds and studded with jewels. Her elaborate wig was curled and plaited with jewelled studs holding the style in place, and she had her usual dusting of face powder to conceal her skin. She watched Robert intently as he walked towards her from the double doors of her presence chamber.

  Robert bent over Elizabeth’s hand and brushed her knuckles with his lips. She snatched her hand away and turned her back, walking towards the window, and Robert fell to his knees in front of the dais.

  ‘Forgive me, Bess.’

  It was a long moment before she spoke. He could see every line of her trembled, although whether it was anger or emotion he couldn’t yet tell. He could hear her dragging ragged breaths as she struggled to hold back her tears and answer him.

  ‘I have forgiven you much, Robbie. But this? I cannot.’

  ‘I am truly sorry I have hurt you, Bess. But I …..’

  Elizabeth rounded on him and hissed, ‘Hurt me? Hurt me? You have wounded me unto death, Robbie.’ Her voice began to break once more and she turned again so he would not see her tears. Robert remained on his knees, head bent and eyes closed as he thought how to reply.

  ‘I did not mean to cause you such distress, Bess. But I could live this life no longer.’

  ‘This life?’

  ‘The life you have me live, Bess. By your side, yet not. Loved by you, but not quite enough.’

  ‘I have loved you since I was a child, Robbie. I have loved only you, for the whole of my life.’

  ‘But you love England more, Bess. Your country always comes first, beyond everything. And everyone.’

  ‘That’s called duty, Robbie. The duty of the Queen is to put her country first.’

  ‘You were a woman before you were a Queen, Bess. You were mine. But I think somewhere along the way, the woman got lost, consumed by the Queen.’

  Elizabeth was silent for a moment as she considered
his words and Robert remained kneeling, trying to bring his voice under control before he too succumbed to the emotion of the moment.

  ‘You married her, Robbie. In secret, and without asking my permission.’

  ‘Would we have had your permission, Bess?’

  Elizabeth snorted, ‘No, by God Robbie, you would not.’

  ‘Then we could do no other. Lettice is to give me another child,’ Robert stopped and closed his eyes at his error of speech, and he hoped Elizabeth would think he referred to his son with Lissey Sheffield, ‘and I wanted this one to be born in wedlock, Bess. My family need an heir, and this might be our last chance.’

  ‘But Lettice Knollys, Robbie. Of all the ladies at court, who would have given their all to be Lady Dudley, you chose her.’

  ‘She loves me, Bess. With her heart and soul, she is mine. And I love her. When I look at her, I see how you might have been, had you not had the ….. hardships …. you experienced as a girl.’

  Robert knew he had to be careful. Elizabeth so seldom spoke about her childhood, and most of her memories of that time, time they had shared before she was Queen, were overshadowed by fear and that had taken its own toll on the young girl she had been.

  ‘So you married her because she looks like me?’ Elizabeth laughed harshly, ‘I doubt she would find that flattering, Robbie. To be married because she is a shadow of me.’

  ‘Lettice is a shadow of no-one, Bess. She is beautiful, as are you. Yes, you are very similar to look at, but inside, where it matters, you are very different.’

  Elizabeth continued to pace, and Robert saw her trying not to bite her lip. He knew that would bring memories of him tending her mouth when she had been upset when they were both young, touching her lips with his finger as he spread salve and then kissing it away, both of them laughing.

  He closed his eyes again, to blot out the memories that tore at him.

  ‘She is kinder than I am, I suppose? Lighter? Happier? I cannot afford to be kind, Robbie. Only to you, in private could I be kind. Now? I imagine I shall never be kind again,’ Elizabeth stopped and turned, looking down at Robert from the dais as he remained on his knees, and she swallowed hard and dragged another breath, ‘or happy.’

  Robert kept his eyes closed and his head bowed until he knew he could speak without his voice breaking with emotion, or moisture escaping his eyes. He had loved Elizabeth for as long as he could remember, and with his whole soul. Now, he knew, he had to walk away from the most important woman in his life, and devote himself to his wife.

  He knew he loved Lettice. Not as he had once loved Elizabeth, with a young man’s total devotion even to the elimination of everything else in his life, but with a deep abiding affection that made him comfortable within himself and settled in his mind. He felt himself to be a better man with her at his side, and Robert knew that he and their child would be at the centre of Lettice’s life. He found to his amazement that he looked forward to that devotion.

  ‘I am sorry I have hurt you, Bess.’ He raised his head and finally looked at her, eyes bleak, and he shrugged. ‘Truly sorry.’

  Elizabeth turned away again, and he heard her ragged breathing once more. Moments passed, but he remained in his penitent position, waiting for her words.

  ‘Your wife is no longer welcome at court, Robbie. She will not be received by me, ever again.’

  Robert’s mouth tightened at this display of spite from Elizabeth. Lettice would be upset, he knew.

  ‘And I shall expect you to continue your duties at whichever palace I take residence.’ Another display of spite, an attempt to keep him apart from his wife. He suppressed a sigh and swallowed his irritation. He would think of a compromise, a solution.

  ‘You may leave us, Lord Robert.’ He looked up quickly at the formal title and saw Elizabeth had extended her hand for him to kiss.

  ‘Bess?’

  ‘I think ‘Bess’ no longer, Lord Robert. I think ‘Bess’ has gone forever, destroyed at your hand. I am the Queen. Your Queen. Majesty or Your Grace will do quite well in the future I think.’

  She looked at him with eyes as hard as jet, and he stood and bowed over her hand, touching his dry lips to the back but taking care not to breathe over her knuckles, his old caress, from their previous life. Now, it would always be just a dry formal touch of the lips.

  ‘Majesty.’ Robert bowed again, and walked backwards to the door, every inch the formal courtier. Elizabeth stood ramrod straight on the dais, watching every careful step with hard eyes.

  At the door he bowed again, ‘Your Grace.’ He turned and went through the door quietly, and closed it softly behind him.